


The Mandragora Prince

by Lachanophobic



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Bulma is the true hero, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fantasy, Gohan the only sane person in the story, Mystery, Romance, Tail Sex, Treasure Hunting, Where Raditz is a flamboyant uncle with an Indiana Jones' complex, and Vegeta is a sexy tuber in distress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:49:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22099741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lachanophobic/pseuds/Lachanophobic
Summary: Now being the temporary guardian of Gohan, her best friend's son, Bulma takes the boy to the amusement park to try and cheer him up… but from there things go awry. A museum and a witch will lead the two into a maze of challenges in order to break a spell that lasts for a millennia. With so much at stake, can the bizarre Mandragora supply them with the help and answers they need?
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 26
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my umpteenth attempt at writing. This was supposed to be a one-shot but of course it grew so much that I had to split it in multiple chapters. Hopefully, you don't mind. A big thanks goes to **Ni21** , **Ruthelesscupcake** and **Mahoganydoodles** for helping me through the process of this infinite mess.
> 
> Enjoy!

The smell of cotton candy wafted in the air along scared yet excited yells and clanking ride chains. The highest Ferris wheel she'd ever seen, in her twenty-four years of life, seemed to match the pacing of the slow and never-ending queue in front of them. Sometimes the pinging sound of game targets would startle her lids wide awake, keeping her from nodding off behind her Ray-Bans. 

A tiny hand yanked gently at her sleeve, and upon looking down she met the shiny, large onyx eyes of her self-proclaimed nephew. "Aunt Bulma," his timid, polite accent made that detestable noun, sound so incredibly sweet, that it magically appeared less awful. She flashed a bright smile, or what she hoped was one that would not betray how bored she really was. "If you want, we could try another ride. You look tired."

Oh gosh. The ball hitting the backdrop, just next to them, mimicked perfectly her heart being ingested and digested at the revelation that yes, this kid wasn't his father's son. A six-year-old couldn't be that sharp. She'd rather pegged him for her own son. His parents, while being the kindest people in the world, didn't possess the same wit. Bulma's mouth morphed into an ugly sketch of her previous grin and her nervous titter definitely shattered her poorly crafted lie. 

"Ok you win," she sighed, massaging her temples in the hopes to keep her surging migraine at bay. She was a party animal; however, her idea of a party usually included various proofs of alcohol and cute bachelors to flirt with. Not screams and cries, or pinball machines, or whatever involved batteries of kids ready to puke on your shirt after riding a roller coaster. "Wanna grab some doughnuts while we wait for the crowd to slim down a bit?"

The kid nodded and smiled at her, looking almost relieved hearing her suggestion. Could it be that she was just reading too much into it and he too, wasn't that excited for the ride?

Fifteen minutes later they were both sitting on a bench facing the kiddie ball pit. They indulged in their sweet loot in companionable silence, watching as some children climbed the monkey bars and swung on the seesaw. Bulma side-eyed Gohan, noticing how the kid kept his gaze focused on his doughnut and had barely bitten into it. 

"Hey, don't you like it?" she prompted, bending a bit so as to catch his shying eyes. 

"Oh! Oh no, I love it. I do… really." His hunched back suddenly straightened up, as if she'd just scolded him.

"Oioioi, it's ok if you don't eat it. Even if you don't like it. What's the matter?"

Gohan fell silent and continued to look at the doughnut in his hands.

"Are you worried for your dad?" 

He nodded but didn't shed a single tear. Bulma went back to sinking her teeth in the sweet pastry and didn't say anything for a while. Goku, the father of this child, as well as her best friend, had been diagnosed with a heart virus. A rare illness difficult to cure, the chances of him overcoming it were slim, very slim. He and Chichi, his wife, had departed a week ago to North City, upon the advice of her father, who had recommended them one of the best specialists available. Even if they'd tried to keep the truth from Gohan, the child was so bright that he had discovered the reason behind his extended holidays immediately. 

It was hard on him, but it was hard on Bulma too. How could she hope to be able to cheer up herself and the son of that man at the same time? It was unfair that such a task had been loaded on her shoulders. But still, she owed that to Goku, actually, much more than that.

Whilst zoning out her eyes casually fell on a lonesome stand, there weren't many people standing in a row in front of it, and it seemed the kind of peppy attraction they both might need in order to perk up. A bright intermittent sign read 'Haunted House.' Some letters were discolored and the general ride didn't have much appeal. It was run down and covered in cheap paint. Either it was a very realistic structure or a low-budget rip-off. 

"Hey Gohan, how about we play a little gut check?" She jerked her chin toward the house, wiggling her brows with glee shining in her eyes.

Gulping down a bird-worthy smidgen of doughnut the boy stared at the ride wide-eyed, maybe terror-stricken, but didn't reply.

"Oh come on," Bulma snickered, "don't tell me you're scaaaared of some fake phaaantoooms, uhhhh" she gesticulated overhead, shaking her hands in a bad imitation of a swinging zombie. 

The boy shrieked but shook his head almost defiantly. 

"That's my boy. Let's make a bet…" The awareness that she shouldn't be gambling with a six-year-old crossed her mind for a nanosecond, but Bulma shrugged it away. "The first one who screams pays for the ice cream. I warn you. Not only am I pretty and smart, but quite impavid as well."

They sealed the deal and entered the house.

\---

 _I deserved this,_ she thought, still rattling from head to toe and literally glued to Gohan's arm. She totally deserved punishment for gloating and betting with a kid. Her soul, Bulma was sure, might have left her body after the screaming banshee or maybe when that ugly Jack the Ripper tried to grab her skirt. 

"Y-you win but let's get out of here this instant, okay?" She whispered, her teeth chattering.

But Gohan wasn't listening to her. His attention was focused on a door that gave into a little museum, or so that's what the sign said. 

"Oh no. Nononono. We're not going there, forget it. Horror museum? Why didn't you tell me you were into this stuff?!" 

The kid returned his gaze to her, shrugging. "I didn't know either." 

Oh right. Of course he wouldn't know. That poor boy knew basically no fun besides romping about woods and reading books. Not only was his mother the very definition of a boarding school dominatrix, whip and everything, but she also considered everything outside instruction trivial and a waste of time. To think she was a fine martial artist not so long ago…

Gohan was a polite and respectful kid, but he knew how to get what he wanted - maybe unconsciously - when he lowered his head in meek resignation and fiddled with those super cute mini suspenders of his. This was why she thought kids were demon spawn.

"Just five minutes," she conceded, "after that we're going home." 

Gohan nodded enthusiastically and took her hand.

It was dim inside, not necessarily lugubrious as she had initially thought, actually, it was very pretty, nice and bright. It looked like a normal shop, full of showcases all neatly aligned against the walls. Gohan had been engrossed the second he had stepped inside. Marvelled, the kid strutted among the exhibits, reading attentively the information on the plaques. 

Despite the different atmosphere, Bulma kept checking around, skittish, trying to search for any telltale sign of scam. It was strange that nobody had welcomed them upon their entrance, no toll booth in sight, no security. Even if the object in the cases were just reproductions, letting people in for free didn't feel right. Not to her, at least.

Her boots echoed off the tiled floor and they sounded sinister even to her ears, abnormal, like the silence wrapping them like a thick blanket. The tip-tap of Gohan stopped in front of a window. Bulma returned on him instantaneously, an inexplicable sensation of fright clung to her bones.

"Aunt Bulma, look!" He said, raising on the tip of his feet. 

She reached him, observing his bizarre discovery with a quirked brow. "Ew," she felt her skin crawl. "What the heck is that supposed to be? It looks like a mummified fetus with pineapple leaves."

"It says _'mandragora officinarum' -_ it's a plant... wait, there's more." Gohan removed a bit of dust from the bronze plaque. "For his father was hopeless, the prince lies here motionless. Upon a mortal the scythe was bared, to have his blood, from blood spared." 

"What is it, emo poetry?" Bulma scrunched her nose, still disgusted by the sight of that ugly plant. "The prince. Ugh, I knew it was a shriveled fetus!"

"Uhh, I think it's just a riddle." Gohan pointed out, "it goes on…"

"The risk is yours, seek it and fail, a beast can't live without a tail."

Both Gohan and Bulma bolted away from the case, running instinctively from the old woman who had just appeared behind them.

She coughed twice, "I'm alive, don't worry," her raucous voice assured.

The two escapees, shivering like newborn deer, poked their heads out from behind a statue. "U-uh, sorry… we didn't mean to, you know…" Bulma tried, stepping out first.

"Oh it's fine, happens every time." The short woman placed both her hands behind her back, walking toward the case containing the Mandragora.

"Are you curious about this?" She was so short that all she could see was the wall. 

"No."

"Yes!"

Bulma and Gohan looked at each other, the little boy flushed scarlet and pointed his gaze at the floor. Ok, this was getting absurd. "Maybe a tiny bit." She said, rolling her eyes.

The old hag had round eyes and those very round and very annoying eyes framed Bulma curiously. "Usually when they read the word prince, girls beg me to tell them more. You're a weird one."

The nerve! Bulma pursed her lips, feeling offended for some unknown reason. "Just so you know, granny, I'm past the age of getting horny for fictional characters," she put a hand on her hip, "but I'll take that as a compliment." 

The grandma gave her a cryptic smile in return. "It might sound strange to you, but this Mandragora is incomplete."

"Oh no, I believe it. That ugly thing needs an exorcism," she said, sarcasm dripping from her words like vitriol. 

"Are you referring to the second riddle, Ms. Granny?" Gohan interjected timidly. 

The old woman blushed at the honorific, probably not expecting to be referred as a miss after a hundred years of life and cleared her throat to ward off the unbecoming reaction. "You are a clever boy," she praised, "that is right. According to the legend, the missing tile is somewhere in this world."

"You mean 'tail'." 

Both Gohan and the old woman turned to look at Bulma in disbelief.

"What?" She crossed her arms, "you mispronounced it."

"No." The old hag continued, "I meant what I said, but you… Miss, you're brighter than you let on." This time the witch-like granny moved to her, so near that Bulma instinctively inched backwards. 

"That's rude!" she bit back, but the sass in her timbre ebbed away when she noticed the seriousness in the old woman's gaze. 

"This is a great burden, my child. A task not suited for youngsters like you two. I suggest you not try to delve too much into this story," she warned, her round eyes now sharper. The atmosphere around them changed suddenly, charged and heavy with foreshadowing.

Bulma felt challenged, a sensation that had hit her since that woman had made her appearance, something that irked and prodded her in the gut. "A bit late to say that when you dragged us in. Bring it on." She heard herself say, the words escaped her mouth on their own free will, before she could rein them in. 

"Brass and impulsive, exactly like him." The old woman sighed but a small enigmatic smile grazed her lips again. "The museum is closing. Good night." She turned her back to Bulma, leaving her blinking in front of the Mandragora's tank.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go with the second chapter! As usual, thanks to Ni21 and Ruthlesscupcake for betaing my work.
> 
> If you'd like, I invite you to leave your impression at the end of the chapter.

On their way back Gohan and Bulma didn't exchange a word, too immersed in their respective thoughts. The little kid voiced his perplexity just once at home, while Bulma was busy ransacking the walk-in closet to find pajamas that'd fit the boy. 

"Ms. Bulma… there's really no need for you to do that, I've got my own nightwear." He whispered, unbuttoning his shirt. 

"Nope. You're not going to bed in that tattered stuff. I'm sorry Gohan, Scratch lives up to his name more often than not." She shot a glare to the black feline stretching on top of Gohan's bed. "Tomorrow we'll buy you a new one."

Gohan didn't protest further, knowing too well how stubborn she could be. The boy stood near the bed in his singlet and overalls.

"Ta-daaa, found it!" She produced a set of Capsule Corporation branded pajamas and showed it to him. "I meant to gift this to you, for your birthday some time ago, but your mom insisted I give you school materials instead. Are you getting used to that new smart board?"

"Oh yes, thank you! It's really useful." He bowed twice and Bulma tilted her head. "Aren't you going to take off your pants? Want me to help?"

"N-no!" He shook both hands in front of him, blushing furiously. "I can do that." 

Bulma smirked, "Starting to feel shy before a lady? God, the more you grow up, the more you don't look like your father, at all." She leaned against the dresser, and her brows furrowed as reminiscence flowed back into her mind. "I swear that man totally lacks decency. He was fourteen and didn't care about running around naked in front of a lady, I-" she bit her tongue too late. How stupid of her! Gohan was gloomy again, because of what she had said. 

He was sitting on the bed now, smiling sadly. "Do you think my father will die?"

She stood there for a while, staring at the pajamas in her hand. Then breathed in and out twice, reaching down to sit next to the kid. "Your dad is strong. One of the strongest human beings I know, and I don't think something stupid, like a heart virus can take him away from us. However, life is strange. You can never tell, so you must be prepared for everything."

"I'm not like him. I'm not as strong, Aunt Bulma." His fingers whitened around the edge of the bed.

"Hey kiddo, look at me," she commanded. When Gohan turned toward her, eyes shining with unshed tears, she flicked his forehead. "Bullshit." She smiled warmly. "You're far more courageous than me. Look at you today, you weren't scared at all of those horrendous monsters. I was."

Gohan rubbed his reddening skin and his mouth curved upwards in a small smile. 

"Now wear this and hop under the covers, big boy." She threw the pajamas at him and Gohan grabbed it. 

"Aunt Bulma…?"

She was on her way out, but she stopped just before reaching for the knob. "Yes?" 

"Are we really going to search for the tail?" 

"You mean listening to an old fanatic, that worships a shriveled human-shaped turnip as if it were a royal deity, and goes around sending people to hunt random tails through incomprehensible riddles? Of course. That's my cup of tea." She winked.

"Goodnight, Ms. Bulma."

"Nighty night, little Son."

\---

Hot. It was hot. The air was stifling and she was drenched in cold sweat. Bulma had been tossing and turning in her bed for hours, sleeping fitfully. At the umpteenth roll her eyes startled open, she sat on the mattress clutching the sheets, breathing hastily. Her wide eyes stared at the large mirror in front of her bed, that reflected a glistening full moon peeking through delicate curtains. 

What time was it? Bulma inhaled calmly, until her lungs were filled to the brim; then breathed it all out as if someone had just sucker punched her in the gut. Something evanescent had just passed in her field of vision, she froze. Trying to analyze her situation rationally, she tried to convince herself it was mere lack of sleep.

But then, it happened again. Shrieking, she crawled to the edge of the bed clumsily feeling the nightstand next to her in the hope to find her smartphone. The device slipped from her trembling hands like a bar of soap. That thing was there. _What,_ she didn't know.

Bulma blindly fiddled with her phone, her terrified eyes still searching in the room as if something was about to jump her at any moment. 

Once she found the right app, the door cracked open and she pointed it toward it, hoping that whatever demon had decided to mess with her would melt with the power of her holy flashlight.

Gohan groaned on the doorstep, his arms crossed in front of his face to ward off the sudden ray poking at his sleepy eyes. "A-aunt?" He murmured groggily.

Bulma peeped from behind her makeshift shield, then sighed in relief. "Oh it's you…" she deflated, turning the flashlight away.

"I heard you scream so I came to check… were you having a bad dream?"

A voice awww'd in the back of Bulma's mind, that kid was going to kill her with cuteness while she was still in her twenties. She patted her hand on the mattress, "care to keep me company for a while?" 

Gohan paced next to her, rubbing his eyes and climbed on the bed. "I had a bad dream too." He confessed, still not looking her in the eyes. 

"Must be that haunted house, that Jack the Ripper was scary." 

"I dreamed of my father. I was four and we were flying on a weird yellow cloud, he took me to Mr. Roshi and you were there too… but suddenly uncle Raditz appeared and said weird things and was angry at dad. I had a tail in the dream, he had a tail too. And he… he killed my father… and Mr. Piccolo was green and… and…"

Bulma grabbed his shoulders and dragged him to her, wrapping the kid in a tight hug. "It's okay, it was a nightmare. But still, just a dream. You were just influenced by all that tail talk." She assured, rubbing his back. 

Tail. Goosebumps raun down her spine. She saw that too. That evanescent thing. She was probably half asleep but… she was sure as her name was Bulma Briefs that whatever haunted her room had a fucking, swinging tail attached to its back.

"So," she shook her head, trying to discard the thought and patted Gohan's head again, inciting him to lift his face up. That kid looked always on the verge of crying, but never did it. She wondered how many unshed tears did that child bottle up. 

" _Green_ Piccolo, though... I see that his passionate _talk_ about the importance of eating veggies is finally _bearing fruit_." She snickered, "I wonder why Chichi didn't leave you with him."

"Oh," he smiled bitterly, "dad would but… Mr. Piccolo and mom don't really get along well." 

Bulma sighed. Good job. Way to cheer up the kid. Now he looked more depressed than before.

"The only people your mom gets along with are teachers and tutors. Look, it's neither of them's fault. They just care about you in different ways and… adults can be kiddier than kids sometimes when they're that stubborn. But I assure you that they try their best, both for you and for your father. We'll go to see Piccolo sometimes next week, okay?" 

Gohan hid his face in her belly and nodded in agreement. Sometimes, because he was so bright and talking with him was so easy, Bulma forgot that Gohan was still nothing but a kid. She knew nothing about brats but she knew her past, and how difficult relating to others was. And how important had been the few but strong bonds she'd woven in her girlhood. 

That night they fell asleep close to each other, tangled in an awkward embrace. 

\---

In the following days Gohan had perked up, probably hyped by their impromptu tail-hunt. They had started their quest from the basement of Capsule Corporation, where Bulma knew her family stored bizarre and diverse paraphernalia. They'd scavenged every nook and crevice, finding old books and disgusting sculptures that belonged to Bulma's father in his wee days. Some vintage phonographs, expensive chandeliers and even dubious sex toys Bulma hadn't showed the kid. But nothing about tails or documents about it.

They tried libraries, consulted various experts on the internet but none of them seemed aware of this story. At some point, Bulma had even thought it could be just a fantasy that old woman spread around for marketing reasons, which wouldn't be that weird, considering how empty that museum had been.

She was about to give up, really give up… but then, _that_ happened. It was afternoon and she was in her lab fixing some issues related to cyber security when she received mail. The sender labeled herself as Mrs. Bunenu working for some shady 'Lab Monkey' company she had never heard about. The contents of the message were just a brief introduction and a telephone number. Nothing else. She said she had the information they wanted and that they could meet whenever.

Bulma had ignored the message for days. At first, she firmly believed it could be a prank, ingesting spam in a temporarily frail system was a kid's play. But then, curiosity and the conviction that the absurdity of that message could actually be a hint for their treasure hunt, persuaded her to call the number.

She waited until dawn, after work, and sat on the couch in the living room with Gohan; a cup of hot cocoa in her hand, as if ready to watch a movie. 

"I'm putting the call on speaker, so you'll be able to listen as well. Okay?" She said to Gohan, stretching her legs on the fluffy L-section. 

The kid was enthused about the hint and agreed. 

After a few beeps, the call connected to a female speaker. "Hello," she greeted gently, "I was waiting for your call, Ms. Bulma." 

"Yeah, hi and everything. Let's cut the chase and get down to business. How do I know you're not a catfish?" She tested, her voice leveled and professional to a T. 

"I understand your concern but cannot reveal much through the phone, after all, you could be an imposter too. For the moment, I can say that I know where the tail is." 

Bulma smirked. "Yeah and why didn't you get it if you know that much? I mean, if you sent me a message it means you must be interested in it as well. What if you're trying to use me and get rid of me once I-"

"I 'han't get it." The woman on the other side of the line interjected, flat, her previous impeccable timbre started to slur into a southern accent "'S true 'hat I fancy the tail too, but I ain't 'he right person for the job. You follow me? That creep at 'he Geeks' Magnet 'hoesn't trust me." 

Bulma lost her voice for a few seconds. Her lids thinned in a suspicious glare and she shot a side glance at Gohan, that shrugged. "You sound awfully familiar… Ms. Bunenu," she pointed out "are you sure I don't know you?" 

The other voice stilled, cleared her throat and continued "oh no," Bulma could imagine the innocent flapping of long eyelashes, "I just came to know you through mags," her voice went back to the initial polite, sweet tone. 

"Right. Anddd.... how do you know we're searching for the tail too? Did the old hag spill the beans? Are you working for her?" 

"No. I don't work for her. But yes, she mentioned you and a kid. So I contacted you in the hope to join forces." She stressed the last words in a whisper, almost… lewd. 

Bulma shook her head, she was imagining stuff. "Why should we? I don't see any profit for us in your information, right now, to me you're on par with one of the worst telemarketers ever." 

"I see you're hard to win over. What about we just meet? I'll show you what I've got and you judge If you still think I'm a fraud." The woman offered, challenge dripping from every word.

Once again, Bulma looked at Gohan, trying to suppress the side of her, who would have said yes on a whim, just to satisfy her own inner voice. Something told her she knew this person and Hell if she wasn't tempted to meet the woman just to expose her!

Staring at the phone on top of the coffee table, the kid seemed thoughtfully weighting their conversation. He opened his mouth to say something, but looking at her, closed it immediately, replacing the unuttered statement with a chaste nod of the head.

A fine azure brow quirked upwards, framing the squinting eyes looking at the boy suspiciously. Something smelled fishy, but Bulma decided to hang tough and not let the doubt spoil the fun.

"Fine," she finally agreed, crossing her legs and keeping her eyes on Gohan. "Name the place and we'll meet you in two hours."

"Why don't _you_ pick our venue? This way you'll know for sure I'm don't have ill intentions." The velvety timbre was smooth and more condescending than it let out. She wasn't an idiot, Bulma mused, the person on the other end of the line must have piqued her strategy somehow… and just reinforced her qualms about the stranger's identity. Without giving hints on meeting preferences, whoever this woman was, she would assure her identity stayed hidden until they actually met face to face. Well played.

"There's a little, very nice bistro next to the amusement park we both know, a bit crowded but perfect for this kind of rendezvous."

"Sounds good to me. See you there."

"Last thing." Bulma pressed on, her voice growing defiant with each syllable, "how will I recognize you? You know me but I don't know you."

The other woman chuckled, Bulma could almost hear a smirk from that annoying titter. "I stand out." 

The connection ended.


	3. Chapter 3

It was six in the afternoon when Bulma, clad in a loose-knit sweater, denim shorts, and rainbow stockings emerged at the entrance of the cafe with Gohan in tow. She stood in the doorway like a sniper ready to fire. Ignoring the rich tapestries on the walls and the homely chattering flooding the place, she scanned the patrons in the room avidly. There were various women, young and old, but the few of them that were alone, didn't seem to be waiting for someone. 

"You know _her, right?_ " She asked nonchalantly, without batting an eye.

"I…" the kid began, stammering.

"No don't tell me. I'll find out soon enough." She craned her neck, finding sudden eye contact with a pair of glacial eyes that belonged to a blonde, tall woman at the bar. She looked like a Nordic beauty, undoubtedly striking. Nobody she knew, though, and the likelihood of failure started to sink in her belly. 

She strode toward the lithe figure, grabbing Gohan by the wrist. 

Just a miserable choked sound came out, from her semi-opened mouth, when the scientist tried to call out for the blonde. An unexpected long, booted leg stuck out from under a table, thwarting her crusade. She would have fallen on the floor if Gohan hadn't readily pulled her in time.

When she turned towards the rude customer, her face fell, cringing in a mix of outrage, befuddlement, and exasperation. "Oh no. No. No. No! Anyone but you!"

"You wound me." The stranger flicked his white Stetson upward, revealing the petrol colored eyes that accompanied a feral, crooked smirk.

Bulma turned towards Gohan, pointing at the man sitting next to where they stood. 'Seriously kid? _This_ is how you thank me for food and shelter?"

The tiny version of Son shook his head vigorously. "That's not it, aunt Bulma."

"Oh h' mon, leave 'he kiddo alone, woman. Ain't his fault if he's fam over bitches. C'mere Lil' man, show your uncle how big you've become." Raditz patted the table, persuading Gohan almost immediately. The kid peeked at Bulma, waiting for her consent, and just when the woman facepalmed and gestured him to scram, did he run to his kin.

"No but do tell me," she began, pinching her nose in disbelief. "Did you hire a hoe or something in order to stage this charade?"

Raditz dropped back on his chair rocking on it whilst ruffling Gohan's hair. "Nah. I'm a proper toff, sweet ass" he smiled charmingly, "I pay my ladies just for righteous service. Voice changer, pretty nice tech. Branded Capsule Corp, to top it off."

Bulma scowled and squared her shoulders, puffing out her chest like a threatened prey in front of a predator. "Nicely played, I‘ll give you that." She got around the table and grabbed a chair, dropped her dead-weight on it, crossing her arms. "Brass tacks," the scientist pointed out, almost bristling, "what do you want, Raditz?"

The man gave her a toothy grin, so smug she felt the need to order _whatever_ on the rocks, just to throw it on his face. Ice cubes can be just as deadly as an actual weapon when used in the right way. Raditz straightened up and propped his chin on the back of his hand, giving her a fake wistful look. "Straight up in the ass, I see. You ain't a prelims lady. I like 'hat about you." 

Bulma wrinkled her nose in distaste and eyed Gohan that, still close to his uncle, had just turned a dark shade of crimson. "There are _minors_ in this place. You won't scar the poor thing under _my_ watch, so keep sexual innuendos to a minimum and reply to my question." 

Once again, Raditz laughed at her. A peal of big, crass laughter, that to her sounded cacophonous, like nails scratching on chalkboard. " _'his kiddo,"_ the crude scavenger patted Gohan's back so hard that the child almost lost a lung in the process "is 'he manlier being you'll ever meet, _after me_ , chick. I gave 'he boy _'he talk_ when he was four and it wasn't even for him. Anyhoozer, I reckon telling you what I _want_. You 'elp me find 'he tail and I tell you all I know." 

Bulma was still looking at Gohan marveling at the kid that had stepped into the world of adulthood in such a raw way. How his mother hadn't enrolled him into some religious boarding school after that, was a mystery. However, there were more serious matters at hand. She returned her gaze to Raditz, glaring at him under thinned lids. "I don't trust you and you should know that." 

"I know," Raditz declared, coolly. Suddenly, the atmosphere chilled. "Glad to know you're still hungover on your ghosts, but it's been eight years and I moved o-"

" _Don't._ " She warned, "say another word about _that_ and this conversation is over." 

"Fine." Raditz crossed his arms behind his head, flopping back on the chair as if nothing had happened. " _'_ his is business, perky tits, I ain't asking you to trust me on a personal level." He stopped talking when the waitress came to get their order, flashed her a lecherous smirk and picked booze for him and a fruit juice for Gohan.

"A mint julep for me. Make it strong, dude." Bulma jabbed, she was seething inside. The piteous shield she'd tried to build up for all those years was starting to give way, just because Raditz was there. His face reminded her of everything she had lost because of him. But he was right, business had nothing to do with personal feuds; even if it was nothing more than a child's game. 

"Looks like you're ready to negotiate." Raditz tipped his hat, stole a glance at the waitress' booty and then produced an old fashioned map. "Don't look at me like 'hat Wonder Woman, what we're searching for is nothing you can find on Google." 

He unrolled the yellowish paper, and now, it looked more like a scroll rather than a map. "Actually, my job ain't the only reason I'm here. _'_ his paper belongs to my family. Kakarot had it on 'im when our folks got rid of us. Old man Gohan gave this to us just when we hit adulthood and I've been holding onto it ever since. Look at this shit."

Bulma perused the frail piece of parchment without touching it, it looked so old it could crumble between her fingers. Judging from the ripped ends, she assumed it might be a page of a book. There were six rows of strange lexemes, which she didn't recognize, looking like a code straight out of a sci-fi movie. Below that, there was an illustration. A monkey. She tilted her head. Maybe it wasn't a monkey, more like some hybrid between a wolf and an ape. It held two items in its hands. One was a device… a spyglass? And the other…

"It's a tail," Raditz interjected, probably upon noticing where her attention had stopped. "And here you'd say: 'bleh bleh bleh Cap'n Obvious' but let me stop you right there."

Bulma stared at him nonplussed, actually more galled by the lack of quality in his poor imitation of her than the contents of the conversation.

Gohan until then had been properly sitting on his chair, suckling his drink and following the exchange with rapt attention, until he raised his hand, drawing the spotlight to him. 

"We ain't in school big boy, you can talk without us giving you the green light." Raditz stroked Gohan's head again, and Bulma exhaled a long sigh.

"It was like that. The tail we had in my dream." He said, shily.

"Dream? What are you talking about kiddo?" 

Gohan hung his head, seeming very conflicted about going on in front of his uncle and Bulma understood why. 

"You can tell him Gohan, it's just a nightmare. Told you." She tried to sound as encouraging as possible, despite the amount of stress that had been building up in her body since Raditz's reappearance.

The kid swallowed and went on with the explanation, making sure not to leave out relevant details. 

When the kid had finished, Raditz scratched his chin and closed his eyes thoughtfully. "'hat's odd, as I've been having similar dreams when I was a kiddo. Had nothing to do with me turning into a killer though," he snickered. "Worry not lad, that ain't going to happen. Yer dad ain't going to kick the bucket, nor by my hand or in any other way."

"Wait, rewind a moment. What do you mean with _'similar dreams'_?" Bulma queried, now indeed interested. 

"Dreaming about me and bro having tails. Can't remember the details but I'm pretty sure I was searching for something in all of them. Anywho, that's my point. Research is. That ape holds a telescope and a tail, call me crazy, but I'm confident that if we manage to translate this page we'll find it."

"Easier said than done. Do we have inklings at least? I mean… is that even a language? Are you really believing this is a family thing? Just because you dreamed of having tails doesn't automatically make it a 'tradition'." For all they knew, it could be just a bunch of rubbish ad-libbed by some cuckoo. There were many gadgets that belonged to her family too, but a great deal of them was just worthless junk. Like that ball her father had found on the internet, urban legends had it, that it could grant any wish. That's how she had come across Son, on her absurd treasure hunting journey. It had turned out the balls were seven and also the cringiest paperweights ever seen on the Earth. She was fifty percent sure this was going to be the umpteenth rip-off, but the adventure was in her blood as much as science was. 

"I have a hint." Raditz assured, chugging down his pint and wiping off the remaining foam from his mouth like a caveman, "on Mt. Paozu, in the old man's hut." 


End file.
